Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Chinks in the Armor ❯ Finale ( Chapter 15 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z or GT. The anime/manga was created by Akira Toriyama, and is owned by Shonen Jump and Toei Animation Co. Ltd. This is a work of fan fiction and means no harm to the anime or manga it pays tribute to. I'm not making money for this.

 

No need for Armor

***

From the crib to his woman he glanced. Weighing heavily on his mind was the realization that the upcoming war with the Androids was about to dawn. He did not wish this to be the darkest hour though. Some instinct compelled him to protect, yet the other training inside of him advised to push her away. Nobody was around to see him, but she had to understand.

 

Bulma clung tightly to his arm. She knew it would only be a matter of time before that armor was put to good use. Still scorched and cracked it could be repaired. Yet could this tenuous new relationship, whatever it was, be similarly treated? How many holes would be punched in it from the effort to maintain their respective pride.

 

"You accept me and Trunks. You accept he's your son. What does that make us?" Bulma asked, finally voicing the question she had dreaded.

 

"Bulma…" he whispered deeply.

 

Vegeta's eyes were unreadable. At that moment there was hardly a human expression present on that handsome face of his. Then something shone through and she realized how his hand was trembling as he let her and the baby go. He nudged her away, then she felt him pull the child from her arms and struggle to hold it. Her own hands shaky she positioned his gloved hand behind the lavender haired head concealed in a cap, while twisting his left arm around their son's body.

 

"He feels like he'll break in my hands. Yet he's surpassingly strong. I can feel it. Yes, he's fit to be my son," Vegeta grunted. "But I can't let this phase me, Bulma."

 

"Just once… you're holding him?" she blinked, tears forced back as she blinked blue lashes. Pulling the baby to him for a second he hissed a series of syllables in his language. Her very body ached. She comprehended not the words, but guessed it was a Saiyan equivalent of dedication.

 

"Just once. You have no idea how many rules I'm breaking doing this," he gritted his teeth, glaring down at those piercing sapphires. His jaw unclenched though when he heard the noises from his son grabbing at his gloved thumb. For a second he wondered why the boy examined him so, with such burning scrutiny. That penetrating stare hearkened to that of the image he saw in the mirror. Trunks had the very eyes of a warrior. Yet he did not want to admit that to Bulma. Untried in battle, his son would have to prove himself before Vegeta could offer more.

 

"You've past your first test. Surviving birth. But now you must survive your first year. Alone with your mother you must live. Till you're of age to be trained. Till then…" Vegeta trailed off, standing statue still with that warm body transferring its heat through even the breastplate of his armor.

 

Trunks gurgled, and accidentally flailed his arms. One of them landed against Vegeta's breastplate, causing the Prince to snicker. "I'd better give you back to your mother. Or else I could accept you just challenged me."

 

"Actually it's time for his nap. He always squirms like that when he's tired," Bulma offered, wandering over to touch Vegeta's arm. Already Trunks eyes were starting to close from Vegeta's standing there so still without over-stimulating him. Vegeta's silence was contagious. Oddly enough Trunks was falling asleep in his father's arms.

 

"Hmm," Vegeta mumbled, swiveling around with mechanical precision. He marched over, baby, and all in his arms towards the ornate crib. Slowly he reached over and lowered Trunks, after holding the baby like something foreign that frightened and fascinated him. Straightening up, he pulled the flimsy cover over after having put the boy on his back. Then he again turned to Bulma.

 

She knew well the hunger in his eyes. Wandering over, she extended her hand to him. "We've unfinished business, Bulma," he hoarsely informed her.

 

"Yes, I know," Bulma nodded. "He'll sleep if we're quiet…"

 

"Very quiet," Vegeta grunted, suddenly scooping her up in his arms and phasing out of the room. Only a faint puff of air heralded their exit.

 

***

Once in the safety of Bulma's adjoining suite, Vegeta pushed the door closed with the heel of one boot. Bulma did not seem worried, and he wondered what that small speaker device that made a crackling sound signified. It sat on the bedside table next to a pair of glasses and a picture frame. He set Bulma down on the bed, then momentarily turned to pick up the picture. Blinking he realized the candid shot that Bunny had snapped of him next to Bulma. Eyes widened to realize that it was only shortly after he'd recovered from the first GR explosion. Still wearing bandages he was, with Bulma leaning over him. Bunny had a strange idea of what to snap photos of. He remembered a few times she had clicked pictures of him eating, or training.

 

"Idiot," Vegeta mumbled. He pushed the photo so it was turned face down, then returned his attention to the waiting woman stretching out on her bed. Reaching up to the straps of his armor he began to unfasten them.

 

"Wait," Bulma shouted.

 

"What? Do you want this or not?" Vegeta snapped back.

 

"No, let me do it this time," she cooed, leaning up and grabbing the front of his breastplate. Swinging back she yanked Vegeta forwards. He landed with an 'oomph' next to her on the vast expansive bed. From the smirk on his face she realized he had allowed her to do so. Laying alongside one another he did not seem so tall.

 

Rather it was the royal aura he exuded. Her slender ivory fingers wrestled with one of the segmented straps. Fist the left, then the right. He lifted his arms to allow her to pull it up and over his head. Only the tip of his hair bent slightly as it bumped the neck hole. She tossed it down with a clunk belying its true mass was greater then it seemed.

 

"That slave of yours does good work," said Vegeta. "This material is superior to that of any make. You employ decent craftspeople."

 

"She's not a slave, she's a friend," Bulma mumbled. Vegeta swung around and rested one booted foot on her leg, while folding his knee under him to grasp her shoulder and pull them both down again.

 

"Whatever. See to it you tell your other servants to pay me the proper respect as she did," the Saiyan Prince requested. Another boot joined the first on the floor beside the breastplate. His gloves were next to come off, peeled away one by one by Bulma herself. Then one of them busied untying her robe sash.

 

Sliding a hand under he felt under the curve of one breast, realizing it was larger then he had recalled. A cocked brow elicited the answer from Bulma, "It's because of Trunks…"

 

"I'll have to thank the brat," Vegeta whispered, nuzzling at the top. He didn't bother to tear the bra off, instead he yanked the sides of her robe apart. She gritted her teeth at the ripping sound. However she could buy another. Then sliding his hand down her ribs he diverted it to squeeze her thigh, then her backside. His other arm wrapped around her from beneath, while they lay on their sides facing one another. Tugging at his waistband, she pulled his shirt upwards, and he shimmied out of it like a serpent shedding its skin. Likewise came the leggings, revealing tight form fitting boxer briefs. Commingled clothes accumulated with the addition of Bulma's robe. He saw the loose cotton nightgown, thin strapped that she had overtop, with the peasant neck she could tug down, along with a strange bra that she'd left unbuttoned.

 

Her hands squeezed and probed the added bulk of his muscles, her arms crossing his that were doing much the same with her now wider hips. Hot breath pulsed, and Vegeta rolled over so he placed Bulma above him. Blue hair fell around his face, and he sat her on top of his pelvis. She snickered at the hard bulge, rubbing herself against it teasingly. Neither had to exchange a word to know what the other liked. Both burned for a long foreplay that would culminate in this coupling.

 

A final rip breached the silk panties, and they soon were lost in the boxer shorts landing atop them. Chest rising and falling, Vegeta hoarsely panted up at the woman. Each surge of his breath pulsed hot in her face, slowly increasing her desire. Then he rolled her over again, surprisingly pleased at how she lay with both arms on either side. He said nothing at the sudden tear shimmering in the corner of one eye, and brushed it away with a thumb.

 

"Is this the second and last time I'll have you before you run off to fight?" she whispered.

 

"No. But I can't show the others any petty attachments. Lest they use them against me…"

 

"Even the Z warriors?" she asked. "They would keep their mouths shut… or you don't trust anyone?"

 

"Correct," he hissed.

 

"Don't you trust me?" she whispered. She leaned up as he moved down, lips nipping at her collarbone, then downwards. With his breath alone he aroused her skin to tingling, then spread her legs apart. Just being near him again had prepared her, for he smelled her unique scent calling him.

 

Bottomless dark eyes searched hers, for any flaw or chink. At the same moment hers did, looking for any unguarded gleam that would betray his true feelings if he had any. Sure enough she saw a vulnerable chink and wedged her way into it with a hand caressing his cheek. With her thumb she traced his widow's peak, then plunged her hands into his spiky comb of hair. "Hnh," he grunted.

 

This was the best answer she would get. And it was enough. Angled brows and flared nostrils banished the unguarded look. Bulma grasped his hip, pulling him down into her. Her eyes widened, surprised at the changes and the similarities in his body. "look at me," Vegeta growled. "I want to see you."

 

"All right then," Bulma nodded, turning her attention to him. Those black holes that devoured all light, all reason. Binding her with an unbreakable grip no matter the distance. Hers the calm blue of the ocean which had its own currents and depths unimaginable.

 

They merged together, sky and sea. Rocking against each other for the inevitable surge of the tide to its highest point. Locked together they shuddered, and Vegeta felt her lips claim his hungrily. They silenced their cries against one another's mouths. The baby would not be awakened, they vowed.

 

"Bulma…" She only half heard his words. "You must give your word…"

 

"What word… Vegeta!" she moaned, closer to the edge of falling over into bliss.

 

" I also warn you to stay away from the battle, Bulma. Do not subject the brat to the fight, or yourself. I cannot divide my attention between hunting for those tin cans and protecting you. Once a Saiyan sees his prey his soul devotion is to the completion of that task," Vegeta panted, his sweat dripping on her face as she cried out and tossed her head with the first crash.

 

"I swear… I'll try," she whispered. "But I will miss you… only if you promise… that no matter what you say or do when we're around the others… you still accept us…"

 

"I vow… and swear it, Bulma. Alone we have this. Together, we are as allies, but no more than that, before your so-called weakling friends. I am to them the father of Trunks, but little else," he snorted. Pushing that thought away he let out a low snarling moan, then forced his mouth again to Bulma's, trying to stifle it. Their lips fused and danced, mimicking their primary activity. Somehow they had transferred beneath the fine linen sheets with a remarkable thread count in the thousands.

 

Bulma panted, gasping under the bulk of him collapsing on top of her. Vegeta rested his chin in her shoulder, exhausted. She continued to lay under him, arms extended, catching her breath. Realizing once more that this was another moment of revelation, she shivered at the similarity. He had left before in this way. Gently rocking she poked his shoulder.

 

"Mmmph what," he mumbled, barely pushing himself off with one flattened palm to the side of her face.

 

"I ask again, is this the only other time till…"

 

"Don't ask stupid questions, Bulma. You know that pisses me off," Vegeta complained. "Now shut up and sleep."

 

Bulma suddenly giggled, knowing the course their path would take. She suppressed the pain that would blossom from separation, yet would welcome whatever warmth could be offered. Even if it was only to be sought between the sheets of her bed. Each cranky crossword complaining of her faults endeared him to her. Then she enjoyed the solid weight and the rasping of his snore. Kissing his temple Bulma allowed herself to drift off. It was enough that he had allowed her to see the chinks in his armor, and she had felt a piece of himself enter her life as well. He had wedged his way in unwittingly, and they would rebuild the suits when before the others. Nevertheless alone, they had no need for such shells.

 

***

The End… till the Androids Attack…

A/N: Forgive me. I had to end it here. It seemed the best stopping point. My thanks to everyone who's helped encourage me to write this story. Rather then leave it unfinished I wanted to give everyone the ending you deserve to have for a completed story! You're the greatest!